


Love Yourself First

by Minion_Energon_101



Series: TF2 Freakshow Stories [4]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Happy, Hurt/Comfort, Nausea, TF2 Freaks, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 20:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minion_Energon_101/pseuds/Minion_Energon_101
Summary: Spyper feels uncomfortable on Valentine's Day. In his own body.





	Love Yourself First

**Author's Note:**

> This is really late. AHH Please excuse the lateness!

The day was cold where he was. Spyper looked around as he sat on top of his flying campervan and watched the cool weather force the fighting men below to either bundle up a bit more or sweat some heat into their person. He was alone, and his van was covered by a tree that had grown to the highest it could possibly go and its large branches were wide and thick enough to house a number of leafs to conceal his van as he watched from over top of the foliage at the fight. He had his van parked so no noises drew the fighting men to his position and reported him to the Administrator or worse, a Capture Team. 

He watched a Heavy come out from spawn and get backstabbed by a cocky Spy spawn camping the poor giant. The Heavy threw his hands up in the signature backstabbed pose and fell over dead in front of spawn as the Spy got away. Spyper felt his mouth mouth twitch in disgust as he remembered a far off time, when he was able to wield a knife as well as that Spy had and been able to backstab as efficiently and as scummy as he had just done. It wasn't a fond memory, as he remembered paying for it during the humiliation round but he at least gained a bit of humility. This Spy does not have it, and probably has not been taught the rough way seeing as the Heavy had a team of Pyro´s who didn't seem too good at their job and only one Sniper on the team had Jarate. And that Sniper… was running back to spawn, strangely.

Spyper watched as the Sniper abandoned the high ground with his partner and retreated all the way to spawn, Jarate in hand. He threw it at the ground about ten meters from the spawn door as Heavy came out and managed to catch the Spy trying to get away from the blast radius. It failed as the Spy was covered in it and Heavy revved up his Natasha and fired. The Spy barely got away, but at least Heavy was able to leave the spawn, and whoever came out next didn't have to suffer that fate too.

The Sniper did not seem pleased as the Spy got away alive, but Heavy was laughing and setting his gun down to slap his knee in a jovial manner. Sniper gave him an awkward glance before the Heavy said something to cause a smile to form in its place. The Sniper began to laugh as Heavy pulled out mittens and made a boxing motion in the air and they probably teased about the Spy's soon demise. They didn't stay in such a position for long as the Sniper used a resupply cabinet to refill his Jarate and Heavy picked up his gun and called out for his Medic partner as he went off. The Spy didn't show up the entire time it took Heavy to find Medic and get back to shooting.

Spyper chuckled. While it wasn't perfect, it was at least a deterrent from picking on your counter class. He looked at his hands and… his hands weren't his…

The Sniper's hands looked back at him and he felt the phantom shadow of his old hands. Skinnier, thinner then this and good at picking locks and holding things still at a distance. He could remember how his fingers would pinch his cigarette familiarly, now he felt like a giant when he could get his hand on an old cigarette type he liked. His knuckles were thicker and he couldn't see the bone of his fingers anymore. His old hands were naturally cold when he wasn't doing anything with them, but these hands were always warm now…

Wait, these hands? They were his hands… or, were they? He rubbed his thumb over his index finger and felt the small ridges on the distal phalanx, where the fingerprint was. He rubbed them together slowly, not his fingerprint… Or was it.

He suddenly felt wrong. Something was wrong here. He hadn't felt this way in years, he hadn't felt so bad in years. He looked at his hands and followed to his arms. He  would never show this much skin as a Spy… he was a Spy, wasn't he? He was Spyper after all…

He let his arms wrap around himself in a self-hug. Something wasn't right. It didn't feel right. Why today?

He pulled something from his pocket as he dropped one arm to let himself go, his heart beating with emotions he'd rather not deal with. He pulled out a card, a card you see in a convenient store rack with tourist stickers above it. It had the traditional Happy Valentines Day on the front in bright red with pink and purple hearts leading all the way across the front and back. He opened it and his heart lightened naturally at seeing a photo of Intelligent Heavy smiling and giving a thumbs up to him. On the page that was opposite of it, was his friends message…

_ Spyper have a good Valentines Day, and as soon as your trip is done, I hope you meet us in Dustbowl before Halloween. This year will be great but I will not spoil surprise. _

_ Your friend forever, _

_ Intelligent Heavy _

He smiled at the thought of the big lug waiting patiently around Dustbowl for him to return from exploring. But the image was saddened by the fact he still had a ways to go, and his heart and brain agreed they could not return to his friends anytime soon. He had a purpose traveling, and he wasn't okay with going back now. 

The wind picked up and blew his paper and hat. His hat stayed on his head but the photo taped to the card shook in the breeze. Strange, Intelligent Heavy always made sure the photo was taped down so the photo and card were both preserved and Spyper didn't just take the photo by itself… He liked Spyper keeping the sentimental cards to show the occasion. And Spyper indulged him.

But why was this one different? He flipped the card over and actually let out a vocal, “Huh?” Before remembering the handwriting.

It was his old handwriting, neat and practised it had been, strange and alien with weird pulls against the muscle memory of the L's and the T's. But it was his own handwriting. Sny? Sny had written to him in this letter? He read it cautiously.

_ You and I aren't a lot alike as we originally thought, and we've already had this discussion before. You learned before I did about how this new existence of ours isn't so bad, but isn't perfect as I made you understand. I hope you don't plan to wallow in pity forever, cause we all gotta love ourselves eventually. _

_ Sny _

_ P.S. What the hell is your writing style, I oughta smack you bloody Spook for your fancy penmanship. _

He almost let out a snide and confident laugh when the match below began to simmer, and he didn't want to be caught. He let the image fold over and looked at his dear friend on the front. The big smile was genuine as it always was. And Sny's words rang in his head as his heart welled up to see them. But not now.

He kicked his legs in joy. _His_ legs. He let his thumb rub over the cover of the card and smiled. _His_ thumb. He guessed, even if Sny was a cynical jerk sometimes when talking about what happened to them, he knew his literal other-half cared for him a little more then he showed. And that was great. He and Sny hadn't been close before… Before…

Nevermind all that. His murderous thoughts for the Medic who did this to him can wait.

Right now, he just wanted to enjoy himself. And _being_ himself.


End file.
